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March 10, 2006

Anywhere but Memphis (fishing for microfiche)

microfiche.jpg

PART 1-----------(before the collapse)
I went fishing for microfiche.
I used a saw and a hammer.
I found a hook in my shoe.
I caught an article about you.
It smelled fishy.
My fingernails smelled like carp. Crap and carp. Carpy crap. The new taste treat
Now in snack size portions.
I walked along the train tracks and I thought
of your smile. Big like the moon only proportionately
smaller. Like a 4th grade book report on lions.
I went fishing for microfiche. And all I got was this lousy
t-shirt. And a memory of you and your baggage. Your face was like an old Twilight Zone
episode. Familiar and scary all at once. Teeth like re-bar and ears like radar
detectors. I wish I could yell in your ear and break your ear drum. Sometimes I wish I could
go back in the microfiche ocean and hang out on the bottom with the crustaceans. But here I
am in Memphis. Waiting for the newspaper man to drive by in that un-mufflered
station wagon rat tat a tattling across my gravel to deliver my morning ritual of pain
and salvation. Redemption and prose for the weak like me. Left to wait and think and wait
and think and wait. Kind of like Siddhartha- lite . Less filling but still tastes kinda great. Actually it tastes like chicken but it keeps my mind off of you and your fish eyes.
Yeah, I went fishing for microfiche and I ended up in the emergency room with a hook in my heart.

LISTEN HERE TO LISTEN HERE TO LISTEN!!! YEAH YEAH
OH OOH OH OOH!

PART TWO-------(post collapse)
Skeezy little creatures running by my table
There’s a naked man next to me says his name is mable
I been drugged like patty hearst
Wet to the gills
It’s not my last it’s not my first
I ‘m hiding in the hills

I could have been in Vietnam A soldier high on pills
A pistol shoved into my mouth a laundry list of kills
I could have loved you like my dog
A princely love that never ends
Post kiss I still remain a frog
I’m dizzy from the bends

Where’s the one? I always dream of.
Where’s the one? I always dream of.
she could be anywhere but Memphis.
Anywhere but my home

Posted by steve at March 10, 2006 1:46 AM

Comments

You've rendered me speechless. I feel like a piece of scrapple sizzling in grandma's cast iron frying pan. Post kiss I still remain a frog. You're beautiful baby.

Posted by: Anad at March 10, 2006 4:20 AM

Steven, I have a question. The hooks? Those ones in our hearts? Why do they always have to be treble hooks? They're such a bitch to get out without doing so much more damage.

Posted by: Fra(o)g at March 10, 2006 10:04 AM

my chihuahua Louise thought that song was very strange. She was listening to Chinese birds sing and echo tweets off concrete but your geeeeetar got her attention. Now she's thinking about what to do next. I like Frag's thought about the damage that happens when you try to get a hook out. May your eyes stay open so so the hooks float by.

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 11, 2006 3:40 PM

Hmmmm... well, having a beer... listening to your last song... Dont know what to say... Maybe you are going through Yoga withdrawl... Lol.... Anyway... I'm speachless on this one... keep up the great creative work! I really did like "she as cold as.... " song you played at the belly up last month... funny stuff!!! ;-) Cheers,
mark

Posted by: Mark at March 11, 2006 10:31 PM

I'll be checking into the V.A. Hospital after listening to that one!
Bye.

Posted by: TV at March 12, 2006 4:59 PM

STeve, did you serve in Nam?

Posted by: bertobob at March 12, 2006 11:11 PM

did i serve in nam? did I serve in nam?? yes. i was 7 years old and i was a waiter in saigon. i served french roast coffee and baguettes to wayward sailors. that's all i served. they wouldn't let me serve beer. said i was too young. i went there alone at the age of 6 to write my memoir but i lost my cash on a couple of bad investments. i wasn't too young to invest in a wayward pyramid scheme but they told me i was too young to serve beer.
huh?
sjjp

Posted by: steverino at March 13, 2006 9:15 AM

so, you (out of spite) ended up drinking enough for yourself and all the rest of us (starting at the ripe age of seven and finishing up a few decades later), continued to lose large sums of money on still more bad investments, and rather than writing your memoirs you decided , "ah, fuck it, no one reads any more in this ADD society, i'll just sing about all the shit that goes on and they'll just have to listen" so you flew back to the states and the rest is rock and roll history... is it sort of the story? huh? huh? is it?

Posted by: s.a.d. at March 13, 2006 6:17 PM

steve,

you
are
fucking
awesome.

Posted by: me at March 13, 2006 11:39 PM

dear s.a.d. that's almost it. here is the story in a nutshell
was born in halifax.

live in san diego.

moved to calif when i was a toddler.

drove the car myself. (after stealing it from an old couple)

was gambling and drinking whiskey by the age of 4.

wrote my first song when i was 2.

shot and killed a man for looking at me wrong when i was 6.

checked into rehab at the age of 5.

went to prison for a year at the age of 6 and a half.

gave myself my first shot of dope when i was 3.

lost my virginity when i was 1 and a half.

lost my virginity to a male prisoner when i was 6 and 3 quarters.
wrote my first novel when i was 7.

i am now retired and just do this shit to stave off the boredom till i die.

Posted by: steverino at March 13, 2006 11:52 PM

Bobby! Should I take 'em to the bridge?
(Go Ahead!)
Take 'em to the bridge!
(Take 'em to the bridge!)
Should I take 'em to the bridge?
(Yeah!)
Take 'em to the bridge?
(Go Ahead!)

HIT ME NOW!

Posted by: TV at March 14, 2006 5:31 PM

i'm assuming you lost your virginity twice because you, as a woman, decided that it was a man's world. And having received this first spiritual awakening just fresh out of rehab, you decided to go ahead with the sex change operation. So, sure it pissed you off when that guy looked at you wrong, (as though you were still just a chick). I'd a killed him, too. But, what I still don't get is if you are a faggot having lost your virginity to a guy as a guy, or if you are cleared since you started out as a she. I guess i otta just break the piggy bank and get the book.

Posted by: s.a.d. at March 14, 2006 6:59 PM

Usually I tell guys like you and that s.a.d. guy to get a tent but you two need to get a book. I could actually read that stuff so there are words out of this alphabet ADDSYZ societea. Was that Bobby Bridge stuff promotion for the book or a commercial?

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 15, 2006 3:33 PM

hi lyn skyn

i need to play taiwan.
i know they would get my lyrics.
how about next sept?
sjjp

Posted by: steverino at March 15, 2006 3:41 PM

September's my favorite month. Got a place in mind? I know a Irish pub called the Shannon owned by Indians of the subcontinent and a mad irishman Robert Egan originally of CA and now of Bejing...a real Chinese vacation in the making ballad boy

you do need to play Taiwan

lmhlmc

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 15, 2006 7:49 PM

some people in Taipei spell Beijing without the "i"

letters letters where's s.a.d. when we need him

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 15, 2006 7:51 PM

here i am. just still a ponderin why i'd need a tent.

Posted by: s.a.d. at March 15, 2006 9:50 PM

I have OAA (obtuse associative abilities) and was thinking about BBM, i.e. Jake and Ennis out of a great short story by Annie Proulx--didn't you get that? Ponderin' why you need a tent is a good thing --I think write a book thing is better....you and poltz are entertaining ponderers.

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 16, 2006 4:08 PM

so, llyn, throw me a bone here....just ponder with me a bit...is a girl that has a sex change a faggot if the new he does it with a guy? is our buddy poltz here a ehhem...well who knows what the hell poltz is...I'm still fixin to read the memoir.


Posted by: s.a.d. at March 16, 2006 8:42 PM

Hey Steve,

Well, maybe next time... You can play it in PI... with some home made Lumpia.. You had once said in one of ur concerts.. Le Stats coffee shop... you wanted to try lumpia... Lol.. and stinky said:"No you don't".. Now.. boy i got the venue for you... a small beach bar in Roxas City Philippines... I can book you... They will pay you in Lumpia actually! bring stinky.. he can try it... and then wash it down with lots of ice cold San Miguel Beer! then fly off to Taiwan to play ur next show at the Irish pub! ;-) Here is the link: http://www.members.cox.net/mcs-online/business_page/wayfarer_bar/wayfarer_home.htm

I am good buddy's of the bar's owner... I'll get you lots of lumpia for the show!

Cheers,
Mark

Posted by: Mark at March 16, 2006 9:58 PM

s.a.d. you're asking me to to weigh mentally...to think deeply...I'd rather ruminate Lumpia mixed with Miguel...but wait that's the same thing as you've asked me to ponder. So here's a slice of guava sans "f" word instead of a bone...Steve's so fixed and folded by now that it's hard to say where the drop that makes him a girl and the plop that makes him a boy began. One only has to take in the great shirt, granny glasses and microfiche to see that our little friend is a well blended pool to ponder by. Another approach to all of this is to see Steve booked in Bangkok (alot of mixed stuff you're ponderin') after the Philippines (great idea Mark) and Taiwan--this will undoubtedly add to the memoir we'd both buy eh?

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 18, 2006 3:27 PM

EH! Mmmmm... I love your guava laced ponderings, and day dreams of music in far away places. I long for the day that warm breezes of foreign lands sweep over my skin.

Posted by: s.a.d. at March 18, 2006 5:27 PM

s.a.d. you know how i know you're gay?

your green guava has pink lace

cold winds here by the way. Did you know lumpia is not a dessert? I thought it was the coconut milk chewy stuff but it's more like a tortilla stir fry I think.

what did you think of Steve's loden t-shirt under the floral motif Texas wear?

You know how I know he's gay? He's into microfiche.

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 18, 2006 11:02 PM

ooooo gross actually i know how he's gay his fingernails smell like carpy crap. Just reread the lyrics--what a nut

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 18, 2006 11:05 PM

throw the microfiche
back into the sea
sail away to
cefalu
sicily

the kiss is getting wrinkled and has cannoli crumbs stuck to it

Posted by: hav at March 19, 2006 4:59 AM

wow. i stepped away for a few days for the sxsw festival here in austin tx. and now i see this thread is getting interesting. the little thread that could.
i am so happy you are here lyn skyn. who woulda thunk back in the day at the university on the hill that we would be in cyberspace? we didn't even have websites back then.
life is good.
s

Posted by: steverino at March 19, 2006 5:06 PM

yeah i never took the time to micro-fish it in the old days at the U--but found my first great art book on Georgia O'keeffe the day she died although I didn't know she had died hours before I discovered her bones and flowers in the book I checked out from the librarian with a bun at the nape of her neck (bit of a bitty) that said, "it's too bad?" I said, "what?" She said, "you don't know?" I said, "No." She said, "she's dead." .1986...2006, kinda fun cyberspacing on your football field here. Football fields are the best up on a hill in the middle of the night under the full moon after all the carpcrappy players have packed it up. So welcome back to your Asian vacation we wove while you were away. s.a.d.'s quite a ranch hand and we threaded some good knots in this carpet ride of yours. Thanks for the space cyberguy, Ray Bradbury says his simile for living his muse as a writer is to wake up and step on a land mine--be blown to bits every morning so he can go on a mad scrap the rest of the day. This site is making for a great place to go bits without biting it.
llyn

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 20, 2006 3:19 AM

nice.
ray brabury.
i like that quote. it makes sense to me. i am borderline retarded according to the san diego union so that fact that it makes sense is a good thing. i can't wait for you to hear the new cd. i've immersed myself in this thing and it's been the most rewarding project yet. i am so lucky to be able to do this. gratefully lucky for the duck of creativity is waddling to the pond. thanks for riding the carpet.
sjjp

Posted by: steverino at March 20, 2006 5:36 PM

namaste.
the muse[ic] in me greets the muse[ic] in you.
can't wait to listen to you...the new cd.
you lucky duck.
will take my sandals off to step on the carpet.
like ray bradbury may you find yourself like a...
"yogi feeding on kumquats, grapenuts and almonds here beneath the banyan tree." (Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing, p. 153)You sound like you are happy with your waddling and preening--let it fly--you're in the stuff that's becoming more yours and will make the sd union change its tune. Ray Bradbury who's gotta write better than anyone at the union wrote that when he went back to collecting Buck Rogers, his life has been happy ever since...he also stopped listening to anyone who criticized his taste in space travel, sideshows or gorillas. When it happens he packs up his dinosaurs and leaves the room. Maybe you'll just have to take your toys from sd and go play out there for a while. That's gotta be why you look so fun in that cowboy shirt. Get old...it gets better. Duck up little camper...look forward to the release.

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 21, 2006 4:23 AM

far out
p.s.
happy Spring Solstice

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 21, 2006 4:27 AM

hi lyn skyn


here's the union's take. i like it. i want to use it in my bio. my new bio.

Fortunately, we have many local oddball songsters I can deal with as well – to wit: Because I believe him to be borderline-retarded and because you never know what sort of atrocities will transpire once he takes a stage, you gotta love Steve Poltz.

does taipei allow borderline retarded musicians?
sjjp

Posted by: steverino at March 21, 2006 6:02 PM

A new favorite for sure...and an entertaining power pack. I can't help but find my way back here. Now off to look at your ugly mug. :) Suz

Posted by: suz at March 21, 2006 9:54 PM

OK.....Mr. Poltz. I live in a Suzanne-Centric world and rarely leave it unless something smacks me across the face with HAPPY. I am listening to you on the LOFT. Next thing I know, I find myself at home here. I want you to know I am in love with your voice, now I need to check out your face and from what I see thus far, you are one f'd up dude! That's very good in my book...checking chapter 32 - "101 uses for F'd up dudes"

Posted by: suz at March 21, 2006 10:11 PM

atrocities yes...BRMs not sure if the diagnosis works outside the Union's borders.

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 22, 2006 3:03 AM

"borderline retard" sounds like a new hit single to me...

Posted by: bertobob at March 22, 2006 7:40 PM

Creating Mental Illness is a great book by Allan Horwitz if you want to do an album...i can't stand the label BR myself

Posted by: llyn skyn at March 23, 2006 2:51 PM


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